


Fire Away

by fennecfawkes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Meeting, Fluff, Karaoke, M/M, Pre-Canon, Recruitment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:25:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4461785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fennecfawkes/pseuds/fennecfawkes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not for the first time, Phil wonders what his mission report for this particular assignment will eventually look like. There’s a lot he knows he’s going to have to leave out, chiefly that he’s sure he could’ve caught Barton several times over by now, but they’re both enjoying the chase too much to let it end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Westgate (Harkpad)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/gifts).



> For Westgate, whose birthday is over, but it happened, so this did, too.

“This one’s for the suit in the corner.”

Phil hears the opening chords of “Hit Me with Your Best Shot” and can’t help chuckling. Clint Barton—also known as Hawkeye, the assassin who lives to prove that bows and arrows are in no way antiquated—smirks, winks, and sings, “Well, you’re the real tough cookie with the long history...”

Not for the first time, Phil wonders what his mission report for this particular assignment will eventually look like. There’s a lot he knows he’s going to have to leave out, chiefly that he’s sure he could’ve caught Barton several times over by now, but they’re both enjoying the chase too much to let it end. Till now, that is; Phil’s pretty sure that this dive bar in Amarillo, Texas is the end of the line, and he’ll be giving a recruitment pitch over $2 beer as soon as Barton’s done with Pat Benatar.

It’s a shame, really. While tracking Barton, Phil was able to locate no less than three other persons of interest to SHIELD along the way, and he even accidentally dismantled a drug ring in Albuquerque without ever setting foot in the city. Some SHIELD brass will likely commend him for making good use of the necessary quiet times during his pursuit of Barton; Nick will likely slap him on the back and tell him he’s one lucky motherfucker.

By now, Barton’s managed to get some fellow patrons clapping along with “Hit Me with Your Best Shot.” Phil retains his dignity by sipping his beer and refusing to join in. He does offer up a small smattering of applause when the song draws to a close and Barton bows deeply before hopping off the stage and sliding into the opposite side of Phil’s booth.

“You owe me a beer,” Barton says, grinning. “I’m turning myself in.”

“You do know by now you’re not a mark, right?” asks Phil, gesturing to the bartender and holding up two fingers. The bartender nods. “This is a recruitment trip. It could’ve ended at least a week ago. I’m Phil Coulson, by the way. I work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division.”

“Clint Barton. Freelancer.” The bartender brings over two beers. Phil hands him a five and waves him off. “SHIELD, right? You’ve had your guys on me before. They’re not usually as friendly as you are.”

“Am I friendly?”

Clint shrugs. “You haven’t taken any shots that would’ve been lethal, had they hit their mark. And you’re buying me a beer. And you clapped for my song. Did you like it, by the way? I meant it. Every word.”

“It was lovely,” Phil says, surprising himself with his deadpan tone. Usually, he’s not one to joke with assets, and Barton’s not even an asset yet. “Mr. Barton, we’ve had an eye on you for a while. We could use a sniper with your skill set. SHIELD offers a better than modest salary, food, lodging, access to transportation, health benefits—basically anything someone seeking stable employment would hope for, provided that someone is willing to learn.”

“I’m not so great at learning,” says Barton. “But I think I might be able to try. I’ve been cleaning up my act here and there. I’m guessing you and your eye took notice, given that you weren’t coming after me quite the same way this time around.”

“Indeed.”

“So. I guess I can work with you. But I have a few conditions.”

“Usually, Mr. Barton, the mercenary isn’t the one setting the conditions.” Phil can’t help smirking slightly as he says it.

“Do we have to use that word?” Barton smirks back. “I prefer ‘vigilante.’”

“Fine. The point still stands.”

“They’re easy ones, I promise. Only two, really. First one: you let me use a bow and arrow. I’m good with a gun, but better with a bow.”

“I don’t think using the bow and arrow a hundred percent of the time will be feasible,” says Phil. “But on missions? I don’t see a reason you couldn’t.”

“I think I can handle that,” Barton says. “Second: I work with you.”

Phil’s taken aback by that, but he doesn’t let it show. “Well, initially, you’ll be doing Academy training for anywhere from three to twelve months. I’d hazard a guess that you’ll be training for three. Your missions will stay stateside for some time after that until you’re ready to go abroad, at which point you’ll be assigned a permanent handler.” Phil pauses. “I can pull some strings and get you on my strike team.”

“Score. I’m in.” Barton puts out his hand and they shake on it.

“May I ask why?”

“You’re competent as fuck, I’ve had a blast being tracked by you, and you’re cute.” Barton tilts his pint glass in Phil’s direction. “I assume I won’t be allowed to say shit like that after I sign the paperwork, so you better believe I’m going to take advantage while I still can.”

Phil feels his face getting hot. Barton smiles.

“See? Cute.”

“I’m usually going for blandly handsome.”

“Nothing bland about you, Coulson.”

This is a new wrinkle for Phil. He hasn’t been attracted to a colleague in years, and even then, it was an idle, passing thing. But the affection he feels for Barton after a single conversation is already more than that. And if the paperwork’s not signed yet, well, what’s the harm?

“Will you give me a minute?” Phil doesn’t wait for Barton’s answer before walking to the back of the bar and calling Nick.

“This better be good news, Cheese.”

“Barton’s in.”

“Well. Guess that’s what I was looking for.”

“There’s a bit of a wrinkle, though.”

“What’s that?”

Phil sighs deeply.

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, _hell_ no.”

“Well?”

Nick—well, Nick doesn’t sigh. It’s not his thing. But he does let out a quiet huff of breath before saying, “You’re not going to be an Academy instructor this year, right?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re well aware that if you favor him, you will get demoted.”

“I’ll be fair.”

“Must be one hell of a sniper.”

“He does OK. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Nick hangs up, and Phil returns to the booth, where Barton’s just finishing his beer.

“I hope you know I’m not being unprofessional in doing this,” says Phil. “But I was just wondering if you’d like to go—”

“Back to your hotel room, right?” Barton sighs. “Guess a one-off’s better than nothing.”

“Oh, no, not that. Never that. I thought we could get dinner. Bet we can find some decent barbecue around here. Then, after we’re back at SHIELD, if you’re interested in pursuing a relationship, we’d have to fill out a form declaring our status. Then we can go out. And _then_ I can take you back to my apartment. But only for drinks and some PG-rated over-the-clothes stuff.” Phil has to laugh at Barton’s dumbstruck expression. “I’m a traditionalist.”

“You’re a strange one, Coulson.”

“Are you into that?”

Barton’s look of confusion transforms into an all-out grin. “I think I am, yeah.”

“I’ll get us a jet in two hours, then,” says Phil. “When we’re working, you can call me sir or Agent or Coulson. When we’re together, call me Phil.”

“Then I get to be Clint, too. Only fair.”

Phil nods. “I can get used to that.”


End file.
